


Stars in the Dark Night

by EryiScrye (SomberSecrets)



Series: Of Magical Kingdoms Come [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, At Least For JB, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, at least for this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomberSecrets/pseuds/EryiScrye
Summary: Avada Kedavra.The killing curse. The curse that supposedly trumped all others. Sometimes Jaime forgot there were three unforgivable curses.But Cersei never forgot.Neither did Brienne.---The wand in his hand shook as he pointed it at her. Brienne’s blue eyes pierced into him, already forgiving him, screaming at him that there wasn’t even anything to forgive. That this wasn’t his fault. He heard his own voice speak even as his mind screamed at him to stop, “Crucio.”





	Stars in the Dark Night

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a little over a year before [My Soul Calls to You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238788).

The night before, she dreamt of him.

Renly woke her up with harsh and frantic shakes of her shoulders and she heard her own shouts of terror die off her lips, “You were calling for him,” he said, his gem like eyes shifting with worry, “your partner.”

Loras, Margaery, and Sansa were hovering behind him. Margaery was chewing on her newly painted nails, her hands shaking and her pupils blown. It was obvious that Margaery and Sansa had both tried to wake Brienne up with no success and Margaery had rushed to find her brother and Renly in panic.

Sansa’s eyes were wide and scared as she wrung her own soft hands, “Do you want me to go get him? Renly and Loras were closer and we didn’t want to leave you alone…”

Brienne anxiously shook her head as the visions of her dreams came back to her and she swallowed a strangled cry. Loras was notably alarmed at her distress, “I’ve never heard you scream like that before. What did you see?”

Brienne gasped, trying to draw air back into her lungs as salty tears stung at the corner of her eyes, “I-I saw him Rise.” Renly drew her into his arms and held her tight as the sobs she tried to hold back ripped out of her.

* * *

The night before, he dreamt of her.

Jaime woke up to the sensation of weight on his shoulders and immediately lashed out, searching desperately for his wand. It took Jaime a second to realize that Addam was the one holding him down, taking the blows with a desperate resolution laced with tremendous apprehension. At least Addam had had the sense to whisk Jaime’s wand to a far off corner before restraining him. When Addam realized that Jaime had finally woken and wouldn’t hurt himself from his unconscious thrashing, Addam loosened his bruising grip and quietly, with only a hint of judgment, asked, “Were you dreaming of Cersei again?”

Jaime threw an arm over his eyes to hide the tears, but replied just as quietly between stifled breaths, “I would trade Cersei into that dream in a heartbeat,” because it had been _Brienne_ lying dead before him, the harsh green glow of magic only just fading. And although it wasn’t true that he would be _okay_ with seeing Cersei dead, his twin, his sister, a woman he had loved, he knew to his very core that he would rather her than Brienne.

Addam nodded with an understanding beyond Jaime’s comprehension and Jaime apologized for hitting his friend in his fitful sleep. Addam merely punched Jaime lightly in the shoulder and called it even.

Only hours later when Jaime looked in the mirror with the light of dawn sweeping into the room did he realize how much force Addam had needed to use in order to ground him against his nightmares.

* * *

At breakfast, Jaime and Brienne immediately gravitated towards each other, abandoning their bedfellows. They didn’t exchange stories of their respective night’s sleep; they didn’t ask about the slight bags they saw under the others’ eyes. They simply sat beside each other as they ate, taking comfort in each other’s presence as they bickered and teased as they always did.

Jaime mockingly inquired about the activities of Brienne’s “girl’s night” and flicked at a glob of mascara still clinging to Brienne’s lashes, while taking the chance to run the pads of his fingers over the soft skin of her eyelids. Brienne promised to throw him at Sansa and let her coat his already absurdly long lashes with a tube of the stuff if he continued to croon about how the kohl would have brought out the colour of her eyes if only she didn’t look like a rampaging raccoon instead. Jaime then waxed poor poetry on the bright purple of Brienne’s nails and Brienne promised to attack his toes with a neon pink the next time she petrified him, taking the chance to play footsie with him beneath the breakfast table while making the threat.

Everyone in the room long knew how they felt about each other, even those who hadn’t witnessed either of the events of the previous night. It was a favourite topic of conversation when neither was in the room and many bets had been made regarding the two. It was easy to see the truth from the outside.

At this point both of them thought their affections were unrequited, but it didn’t stop one from loving the other more with every passing moment.

* * *

Jaime was annoyed that he couldn’t help but tremble before their presence still. He had been pardoned for Aerys’ murder then; he was more than absolved of it now. The Rise was proof enough that he had made the wretched and _correct_ decision. It had been the one and only time Jaime had used and succeeded at using the killing curse. Maybe it was the reminder that the curse could so easily spring from his lips, that he could unabashedly take a life with just a spark of magic, which truly haunted him when those violet eyes were in the room.

“Jaime.” It was a low murmur that couldn’t be heard over the thrum of the crowd. Large, warm fingertips pressed into the back of his hand as Brienne stood beside him at the back of the briefing room. She shifted her gaze to him and he saw in her eyes comfort and understanding, her sapphire blues urging him not to spiral. He gave her a weak smile as his dream once again flashed before his eyes, her astonishing and unequivocal gaze dull. Swallowing deeply, Jaime turned his hand and quickly squeezed the tips of her fingers. How he had gone five years without her championing him at every moment, he did not know. Cersei had surely never freely given him solace like this. It just simply wasn’t in her nature. How much of that time had he simply spent burying himself inside?

Aerys’ brothers and sisters: Rhaegar, Viserys, Rhaella, and Danaerys, were leading the Aurors’ briefing. The room was stuffy and full of bodies, more Aurors in one place than Jaime had ever seen, even since the start of The Rise. Pandemonium had only begun a year ago and it already felt like it had been several lifetimes. They were already expecting Armageddon tonight.

Rhaegar’s voice, musical in lilt, but serious in tenor detailed what they knew of the Brave Companions, how they had come to Rise, and what they were planning for that dark night. What Rhaegar had to say was disparagingly short. It was a wonder that they had gotten word of the attack at all.

Jaime breathed out a sigh of relief and rubbed his face in respite when, by the end of the briefing, his family name was not mentioned. He held out hope that for once the Lannister’s were not part of the current twisted scheme to have the magical world ascend to where The Rise felt it should be, an unachievable crazy ideal. But in the back of Jaime’s mind he acknowledged that as long as he was there, the Lannister’s were already involved.

_Jaime Tarth, husband_ not _brother,_ briefly came unbidden into his mind, but he shook the fanciful and absurd notion away. Brienne only regarded him as her Auror partner and friend, titles that he, quite frankly, couldn’t believe he held considering their beginning. He was older and tarnished; she was younger and irreproachable. It was foolish to want more.

Brienne’s palm settled gently on his shoulder, “I’ll take your six Jaime,” she said with a toothy grin, only slightly marred in apprehension.

Jaime smirked and placed his palm over hers in the pre-battle ritual they had developed with each other. He ran his thumb over the side of her fingers, “Don’t you fret wench. I’ll also have yours.”

* * *

The Brave Companions had been expecting them. It had been bedlam from the moment of touch down.

As the screams of allies and enemies resounded all around her, Brienne kept her ground and Jaime at her back. It had been drilled into them as Auror partners: defend each other, when you leave your partner’s back, that’s when someone died.

Brienne was chanting spell after spell, bursts of magic from her wand propelling her to protect those she loved, and all the while she made sure that her back was still warm with his presence. They moved together as one, as though they had fought together all of their lives. When he shifted, she shifted, when she moved, he followed.

But a sick and twisted bile was swirling in her gut and it threatened to take hold of her heart and choke her. The feeling hadn’t gone away since she had woken from that nightmare. It was absurd. There was no way that Jaime would Ascend, not now, not after everything he had been through. But the thought of him going, the thought of him leaving her… leaving her for Cersei, of all her scattered priorities, made Brienne’s insides twist out and her heart pitch in her chest. So she continued to chant incantations in a desperate bid to keep him alive, keep him grounded, keep him beside her.

Through the chaos and madness of spells being cast, landed, and rebuffed, it was only from the corner of Brienne’s eye that she saw them coming. Two Brave Companions that she knew the like and names of: Vargo Hoat, the leader of the Companions and Zollo, his right hand man. Both of them were grinning in blood lust as red sparked from their wands. It was obvious that they had already managed to hurt, maim… kill someone. When Brienne saw Vargo Hoat and Zollo coming for them, a realization dawned on her with cold clarity. This wasn’t just an attack on the centre of Edinburgh. It wasn’t just any trap for the Ministry. It was a trap to ensnare Jaime.

“Protego!” Unable to stop two spell casters at once, Brienne pushed Jaime down to the ground and protected him with her body, for once glad for her big stature, and took the full hit of both hexes against her shield. The shield shattered and the reverberations caused her to be thrown to the ground with a grunt, but Jaime was safe.

“Brienne!” she heard Jaime roar and then, “Sectumsempra!” Brienne used his voice to re-orient herself. Opening her eyes, she saw Sandor and Gendry, Robb and Jon, and Tormund… alone, fighting desperately to get their enemies under control. Blinking rapidly, Brienne pushed herself up onto her knees, feeling blood, warm and thick dripping down the planes of her face. Jaime had already taken down Zollo, the man laid in a growing pool of his own blood as wounds opened up over his body. Vargo Hoat was nowhere to be seen. Jaime hefted a warm arm under her shoulder, his palm solid and firm against her back, and immediately positioned them against a wall. He threw up a shield in front of them so that at least there would be a warning if they were attacked again, “Wench, talk to me. Are you okay?” He was angry. Angry at her.

Brienne took deep breaths though her mouth and winced at the sensation vibrating through her sinuses, “Mildly concussed maybe, but I don’t think anything’s broken.” She reached out her hand and clamped it onto his waist for stability.

Jaime nodded sharply, his nostrils flaring as he resisted the urge to snap at her, “Some of the more injured Auror’s are beginning to apparate out. It looks like most of the Brave Companion’s are now doing the same.”

Brienne nodded her head and regretted it immediately as she felt her knees buckle and poor Jaime flinched at suddenly having to support more of her weight. “Sorry,” Brienne slurred as she tried to regain her footing.

“Don’t be fucking sorry wench. Next time don’t do such idiotic things in the first place,” Jaime scowled, “Put all your weight on me. Trust that I’m strong enough to support you,” Jaime said, his emerald eyes flashing, “I think it might be our time to leave too.”

Brienne nodded slowly, but resolutely. Whatever Tywin or Cersei or Tyrion had planned for Jaime would be harder to orchestrate away from The Rise’s playing grounds. For once, Brienne did not fight the suggestion to retreat. The dark bile in her gut was coating her throat and mouth.

Suddenly, her wand began to teem. Brienne snapped her head up to look into the carnage of the great hall the Brave Companions had led them to. Where Brienne had last seen Vargo Hoat, there was now a sword in a scabbard lying in the rubble, a sword that Vargo Hoat had surely dropped. Her stomach churned.

As though echoing her thoughts, Jaime said, “Why the hell was he carrying a sword in this day and age?”

But her wand continued to thrum, the sensation over taking her apprehension, logic, and fear. And Brienne knew what lay in that scabbard. It was Valyrian steel. Metal forged from an ancient and lost magic. So few of the blades remained and even less were found. The sword of Gryffindor was thought to be one of the last known ones and even that famous artifact seemed to wink in and out of existence.

Brienne’s vision sharpened as she gazed at the pommel of the sword. A lion. Another Gryffindor relic? But the lion was gold with inset red rubies, and although those were also the colours of Gryffindor, the gaudiness of the design was pure Lannister. Her wand resonated. The feelings of trepidation and longing warred inside her. _Brienne Lannister_ , it wasn’t the first time that the name had come unbidden to her mind, a naïve, ugly girl’s unattainable desire, and with a Lannister _Valyrian_ sword calling out to her… “Jaime,” Brienne wheezed as her wand sang, “That sword…”

Jaime snarled, seemingly as moved by the weapon as much as she, “I know.”

They both advanced forward as one, as though entranced. The world around them seemed to no longer matter. The sounds of battle had faded into the distance. The light of spells flew over them as though repelled by some ancient force. As one they both laid a hand on the scabbard and Brienne felt the pull. The dark bile flooded her senses and threatened to drown her. Her last thought before she blacked out was why a portkey surely left to ensnare Jaime, had managed to entrap her so powerfully as well.

* * *

Jaime reeled at the sensation of being transported through time and space, he tried to cushion their landing, but the moment they appeared on the other side a shot of magic ripped Brienne out of his arms and threw her into the nearest wall. He could hear her bones break beneath her freckled skin and it made him want to roar.

“Goodness, that cow does tail after you at all times doesn’t she, like a massive bitch in heat.” Jaime’s eyes glowed with wrath as he stood up and met the eyes of his twin sister, the sword left forgotten at his feet although his wand still sang its song. Emerald met emerald as they stared each other down, but then Cersei’s eyes softened as though she _missed_ him. Jaime felt his heart stutter in his chest as he appraised her alabaster skin, her long, tapered fingers, her elegant neck, and her long golden mane. He hated that sometime he missed her too. Shaking to regain himself, Jaime made a move to go and check on Brienne, but Cersei stopped him with a wave of her wand, “Move any closer to her and I’ll kill her. She’ll live. Probably. But I want her out of the way while we talk.”

Jaime gritted his teeth as his eyes flickered to Brienne’s unmoving body, trying to assess if she was at least breathing. The slight rise and fall of her chest confirmed that she was alive for now. Jaime’s fingers furled restlessly around his wand, “I have nothing to say to you Cersei.”

Cersei blew on the tip of her wand unmoved by his sentiment, “You seemed to have a lot to say the last time we met.”

Jaime’s eyes hardened as he turned his gaze back to her, “It’s over Cersei. You made your choices. I made mine.”

Cersei’s eyes roved over his face before they landed on Brienne’s still form, “Is it because of that beast? You called her a great joke when she was first partnered with you.” _Remember_ , Cersei seemed to say. _Remember when you used to talk to me about everything. When it was us against the world?_

“I was a different person then. We were different people.”

“Have you really become so craven? We’re family. Fate birthed us together, you are meant to be by my side, you are meant to die at my side.”

Jaime nodded bitterly while trying to shift closer to Brienne, “That’s the truth of it isn’t it Cersei? That _I_ should be by _your_ side. You could have stayed with me, if you truly believed us fated to be together.”

His beautiful twin scoffed as her nails slid against the surface of her wand willing him to still in his movements, “And done what? Join the cesspool of mudblood witches and wizards that now grace the Ministry? Become just another soldier slated to die for a recurring cause. Simply accept that there isn’t more out their for the likes of us?”

“The likes of us.” Jaime grimaced as his knuckles turned white, the skin over the joints cracking, “I used to foolishly think we were destined for more as well.”

“We still are, if you would just open your damn eyes. We’re Lannisters. Lions among sheep, and if we bind ourselves to these peasants, we will only lose our claws and teeth.”

“I’m not foolish enough to think that I am above the so called peasantry anymore,” Jaime snarled. Cersei frowned at him, her blood red lips pursed as her wand sat idly between her fingers. He didn’t let her cool temperament fool him. She was dangerous. She had always been dangerous. “Reality rented me from that fantasy of fate and superiority Cersei, you should let it set in for you too.”

Cersei’s lips twisted into a caustic smile, her face somehow more beautiful when flooded with cynicism, “But that’s the thing dear brother. When you Rise, reality is yours to control.”

Jaime barked in laughter even as he was drawn to her, “I don’t want to control my reality.”

Cersei threw back her head and laughed, “And what is your reality Jaime?”

Jaime opened his mouth to reply, images of his friends, his companions, _Brienne_ flashing through his mind.

“Look at you. So weak now you can’t even fight alone. And yet that’s what you are in that sea of do-good witches and wizards aren’t you? Alone?” Jaime flinched, “You’re not a kind man. You’re not a good man. You take what is yours and end those who get in your way. They knew you’re were hateful, broken man that needed to be fixed, needed a doe-eyed cow to keep you in line,” Cersei murmured, “But they are _wrong_. You are _perfect_ Jaime, I have always thought you were perfect.” Cersei’s sweet words caressed him gently, and he recalled how her touch used to make him feel. How much he had loved her. Jaime remembered again how easily the killing curse had slipped from his lips. How no one had taken him at his word when he tried to explain. He remembered how he had lashed out at Brienne when they had first met. How he had destroyed and destroyed and destroyed for Cersei during their seven years at Hogwarts. How Cersei had been by his side all those years the Ministry could barely stand to look at him. “Whether you acknowledge it or not, you’re ready to Ascend Jaime. It doesn’t have to be hard. You can do it now. Come back to me. I love you and you love me.”

“N-no.” It was a strained, small whisper and Jaime, jolted, having forgotten for a moment that it wasn’t just him and his sister in the room. He turned to see that Brienne had regained consciousness. Her face was pale and wracked with pain, but she was looking at him, staring right at him and he wondered how he could have forgotten her at all. Cersei’s hold on him had always been so strong. She shook her head slowly as she clutched at her broken ribs, “You’re not broken Jaime, I-I don’t think you’re h-hateful.”

Jaime resisted the urge to run to her side as he watched Cersei evenly point her wand at Brienne, her eyebrows raised and her chilling, sweet smile still on her blood red lips. Jaime took a couple breaths and shook his head as he dragged himself out of the pit that Cersei had wanted to ensconce him in, “I’m not perfect, Cersei, and I don’t need to be,” Jaime gritted out between his teeth while clenching and unclenching the fist not desperately wrapped around his wand. The pain from the half moon welts in his palm grounded him as drops of blood slid down his fingers and splashed on the stones. He heard Brienne breathe out a sigh of relief, even as she tried to stifle her groans of pain.

Cersei frowned at him again, her cold, green eyes calculating. A smile then burst from her lips, her white, teeth gleaming in the light. “I understand now. The Ministry did well tethering that beast to you. Keeping the great sow alive has been my greatest mistake,” her wand began to wave.

Jaime leapt between his sister and Brienne brandishing his wand, ready to strike. Ready to do what he thought impossible only a moment before, “You’re right sister dearest. I’m _not_ a good man. Kill her Cersei, leave me alive and kill her, and I’ll hunt you down. I’ll hunt you down and you will wish until your dying breath that the killing curse would fall easily from my lips.”

The threat only seemed to please Cersei even more as her emerald shone. “Oh Jaime,” his name came off her lips like poisoned sugar, “Don’t worry. I won’t kill the beast…” Cersei’s lips twisted in delight as her eyes darkened, “You will. Imperio!”

“Protego!” Jaime heard from behind him as Brienne tried to throw a shield up, having deduced what Cersei would do before he did. He was foolish really. Even now, after all Cersei had done, after what he was ready to do, he still hadn’t expected his sister to fall this low.

But Brienne’s shield was not enough in her weakened state against Cersei’s delighted malice. The unforgivable curse shattered through the protection and engulfed him whole.

* * *

Brienne wanted to scream in horror as a veil of magic seemed to drift over Jaime and his protective stance loosened until he was standing straight again. She breathed deeply through the pain as she frantically searched her mind for ways that the Imperius curse could be broken, but came up short. A sob burst in her throat as she realized that there was nothing she could do for him.

With movements too soft and humble, Brienne watched as Jaime made his way to Cersei’s side and when he turned to look back at her, she saw that his eyes were too clear, too blissful to belong to her Jaime, who always looked at the world through somewhat droll eyes. “Jaime,” Brienne whispered as she watched him and tried not to cry, “Jaime please…”

One side of Cersei’s lips lifted in unabashed glee. She knew that she had won. “What did an ugly, dour, stupid beast like you think you could do for him?” Cersei asked, tilting her head and allowing her golden hair to cast over her shoulder like a waterfall of spun silk, “You were never going to be enough.”

Brienne swallowed as she ignored his beautiful golden twin and lifted one hand to reach out to Jaime even though he was much too far for her to touch. The tips of her fingers strained to be near him, to feel the warmth of his skin again. “You won’t succeed.” She felt the air rush out between her lips, “This won’t break him,” Brienne continued, “You’ve got it all wrong Cersei. You don’t know your brother anymore.”

Cersei’s emerald eyes narrowed as Brienne shuddered and tried to pick herself off the ground and failed, her large body falling back against the stones and a cry of pain bursting from her lips. Her eyes lost Jaime’s, but it fell open the Valyrian steel sword. Brienne remembered the way they had understood each other when they had seen it, the way they had moved together, even if it was to their doom.

“Accio sword.” The sword shuddered briefly under the pull of her weak magic before it twirled so that the hilt came into contact with Brienne’s still reaching palm. Brienne breathed a sigh of relief when she remained where she was. She hadn’t wanted to escape. As she had suspected, the portkey had been a one-way ticket to the end of the world. Cersei didn’t react to Brienne’s retrevial of the sword. It had simply been a means to an end. Somehow this sword was important to just Jaime. With her wand in one hand and his Valyrian steel sword in the other, Brienne felt that she could accept her fate. She could go down strong and fighting and loving Jaime all the while. Brienne finally turned her eyes to Cersei. They were clear and hardened and blue. She used all of her strength to say as clearly as she could, “Even if you make Jaime cast the spell, _you’re_ still the one who has killed me. Do you understand? Because he’ll understand,” Brienne hoped that even in his clouded state, Jaime would remember this, wouldn’t break. She prayed that he wouldn’t blame himself. “It will have been you to end me Cersei. A black mark on your conscious, not his.”

Cersei jolted in shock as she suddenly turned her head to stare at Jaime wide eyed. Brienne’s gaze flickered to him and saw that _her_ Jaime’s eyes were back. Brienne’s heart hammered in her chest as hope warred with horror. Cersei was losing control of him. But now he was aware of what Cersei was going to make him do.

* * *

Jaime wanted to move to Brienne’s side, but he couldn’t. Jaime wanted to reach out to her, but he couldn’t. Jaime wanted to yell at her, but he couldn’t. It was like he was on the outside looking in. And all he could see was Brienne, Brienne broken and hurting on the ground, clutching at that damn sword that had landed them in this mess in the first place. She stared up at him in wonder and fear, her blue eyes wide. “Why are you looking at me like that wench?” he wanted to ask, but he didn’t hear the words coming from his lips.

Instead he felt an intense rage flood through him, a rage that was not his, but one that he had been familiar with all of his life. With sudden lucidity he realized what was happening. ‘Why do you fight me brother?’ Cersei hissed in his mind, ‘You should have just come easy. You didn’t have to feel a thing. It was my small mercy to you. Now though…’ And Jaime felt the rage direct itself at Brienne. The cold, unyielding fury. Cersei was scared of her. Scared of his wench. And this made his heart drop like a stone in dread. He tried to fight her, rage against her rage. Tried to fight the grip his twin had enclosed him in, but knew he couldn’t move.

“Do you think you know him better than I? We are two halves of the same soul,” Cersei said too calmly. They had whispered these words to each other plenty of times: in the halls of their home, in their rooms at Hogwarts, on the busy streets of magical London, but this was the first time that Cersei sounded unsure, as though she was trying to convince herself. It was probably because he didn’t believe it anymore, and she could feel it, having invaded his mind. What had his wench said to her to incite such vehemence?

Brienne shook her head slowly, refusing to break her gaze with him, “No.” Cersei’s anger sparked and burned.

For a moment, the seven hells of fury lit under his skin and then a cold, wrath seemed to drift as he felt Cersei’s intentions shift. Jaime wanted to scream at his wench to run, but he couldn’t and she couldn’t. “You think I can’t break him? You think that you have a tighter hold on him?”

“I don’t have any kind of a hold on him Cersei.” Bristling electricity surged under his skin, an acknowledgement that Cersei knew Brienne was _wrong_.

“I will show you that he is mine. Death was always too kind of an end for the beast.”

Jaime felt himself move. Felt as his arm lifted and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. The look on Brienne’s face seemed to indicate that she knew what was coming for her. He saw her jaw harden as her teeth clenched in anticipation; her knuckles turned white as she drew her arms closer to herself, tugging her wand and the sword toward her body. Jaime panicked as he realized that she wasn’t even going to _try_ to run. That she wasn’t going to just abandon him. She stared at _him_ , his soul trapped in his body. The wand in his hand shook as he pointed it at her. Brienne’s blue eyes pierced into him, already forgiving him, screaming at him that there wasn’t even anything to forgive. That this wasn’t his fault. He heard his own voice speak even as his mind screamed at him to stop, “Crucio.”

Brienne managed to hold back her screams for a second. But compounded with her broken and cracked bones, the concussion she had suffered, and the lacerations on her skin, she hadn’t been able to bear the pain for long. Jaime felt all of Cersei’s malice channel itself into the curse and he tried, willed to make it stop. But he couldn’t make it stop. Brienne’s shrieks echoed and echoed and echoed for what felt like hours, days, months, years around him as her body twisted and she tried to seek refuge from the pain by curling into herself. He could feel his heart break as Cersei released the curse to the sound of her own laughter. His sister was _enjoying_ Brienne’s torture. She was trying to make _him_ enjoy her torture. “Even in pain she sounds like a wild animal,” Cersei guffawed.

Brienne’s loud snuffles echoed through the room although it was obvious she was trying to rein them in for his benefit. Jaime had never felt more like a failure in his life. Cersei’s voice filled his mind, ‘You love her don’t you brother? This is what your love does.’ He couldn’t continue to watch this happen. He wanted to let the Imperius curse take full control of him again. Let him be weak. Let him suffer after. But he couldn’t watch himself torture her now. He was being craven, but he didn’t know how to save her.

Brienne, crying, found his gaze again and shook her head frantically, “Please Jaime. Don’t go. You need to fight! You can fight her.”

Jaime felt his cracks widening. Cersei went to rip him asunder. Cersei’s voice coiled around him, sweet and dark, ‘Look at you. Tearing her apart. How could she ever love you back? You love and love, but she can’t love you back. You’re too gray for her, too dark. You are made from different molds, but we were cast from the same. It’s because you touched her with your polluted hands that her fate has come to this.’ If he hadn’t fought Cersei, she wouldn’t have done this to Brienne. If he had joined his family when they had Ascended, if he had followed Cersei when she had sought him out, Brienne would have been spared this. If he gave Cersei control, she would leave Brienne alone. He couldn’t even protect her from his own twin sister. She was always the one protecting him.

He heard his voice again, “Crucio.”

He wished he had never met Brienne.

Brienne must have seen the light die in his eyes, because she screamed and rallied through the pain, “Please Jaime…” The desperate plea that was his name from her gave him pause as he tried to burrow inside. She seemed to be mustering up the fortitude to continue through her torture, through the agony that rented through her. Her eyes were still trained on him, filled with fat tears as her voice began to die, “P-please d-don’t l-leave me. Please. I-I love you.”

Brienne’s eyes closed as her body went limp. Her wand and the sword clattered to the ground.

And Jaime shattered the veil.

Cersei flew back from the recoil of magic.

Surges of magic flashed around him as friends and colleagues finally apparated onto the scene. Jaime ignored everything else and made a lunge for Brienne’s quivering mass. As his arms wrapped around her, she fell still. Suddenly, Cersei’s broken articulations, his self-destructive thoughts, made little sense to Jaime as he gazed upon Brienne’s face. Those weren’t what mattered anymore. Cersei didn’t matter anymore. Brienne mattered and she was unmoving in his arms. Jaime took in deep breaths as Renly and Margaery attempted to make Cersei retreat with a flurry of hexes and curses. Cersei in her desperation called for her dementors.

The ice cold despair washed over all of them, and sparks of silver magic tried to manifest from many different wands, but his allies were all so battle wary that none could conjure their patronuses.

Jaime’s hand shook as he tried to assuage if Brienne was breathing. Tried to figure out if the rapid cooling of her skin was from the wraiths or from death. But with all of the calamity that was going on around him, he couldn’t determine if it was one way or the other.

In a desperate bid to end this farce so that he could make sure that Brienne was _alive_ , Jaime feverishly waved his wand in the air and roared, “Expecto patronum!” He didn’t know if it was his desperation or if his magic had been fueled by her affections for him, but his lion emerged from the tip of his wand giant and furious.

The fight against the dementors ended before it had started. And Jaime put an ear to Brienne’s lips and a hand on her heart.

It was faint. But life was still there.

* * *

He sat by her bedside at St. Mungo’s with dark bags under his eyes, one of her hands was clamped tightly in both of his. Her wand and the Valyrian steel sword were carefully tucked in two cases on the other side of her bed.

It was horrible to still be sitting here weeks later, but better this than to be like Jon Snow, the Starks, or the remaining Targaryen, all of whom had been circling between several different graves.

They had been ambushed. The information the Ministry had received had been purposefully seeded, as they had somewhat expected. But not only had the Lannister’s been involved, the Bolton’s and the Frey’s had been too. Families the Ministry had been unaware Ascended until that very night. There had been so many casualties: Ygritte, Robb, Jeyne, Lyanna, Rhaella, Viserys, Danaerys, Grey Worm, Missandei, Melissandre, and Asha. For some families, some _people_ , the battle had been Armageddon.

So Jaime counted his lucky stars, that even though he was still here at St. Mungo’s when others had long been discharged, that it hadn’t been worse. Because it could have been worse. So much worse.

But he still wished it was better.

Upon describing the intensity of Cersei’s malice to the healers, Jaime had been warned that Brienne would possibly never wake. Few survived the Cruciatus curse with that degree of intent, and fewer still survived with their sanity intact. Jaime had been warned that if she ever woke up, she would likely never be the same again.

Jaime squeezed Brienne’s hand as the memory came to him and he rested his forehead on their entwined palms. A world without _Brienne_. He could no longer imagine it.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and Jaime looked up into the kind gaze of Selwyn Tarth. “You need some rest son. I’ll be here with her while you shower and get some sleep.”

Jaime shook his head, “I want to be here when she wakes up.”

“You look half a corpse,” Selwyn mumbled, “Is that how you want her to see you when she does wake?”

Jaime shook his head, but still refused to move, gripping her hand tighter in his. He had gotten to know Selwyn Tarth well in the weeks following the battle. He knew well now where Brienne had gotten her kindness, devotion, and loyalty. Her father had passed to Brienne his most redeeming traits and she had nurtured and polished them. Their house was a dynasty of Hufflepuffs. Selwyn ruffled a hand through Jaime’s greasy hair in comfort as Jaime’s voice came out hoarse with disuse, “How can you not blame me?”

Selwyn chuckled, “This again?”

Jaime gulped as tears came to his eyes but he tried to hide them by wiping them away with his knuckles. Selwyn didn’t seem to mind that a grown man couldn’t seem to stop crying around him; it was so different from his own stern, disapproving father, “It was my wand…”

“But it was not your heart. It’s quite obvious that you could not have done this to her.”

“But if I—“

“Don’t take the sins of your family upon yourself son,” Selwyn murmured gently as his large hand slid down the back of Jaime’s head and neck and stopped to give him a comforting squeeze of his own. “You can only make your own decisions and accept the choices of those around you.”

“But sir—“

“Have you talked with those who were there yet? I’d say not. You haven’t left her bedside and smell like it too.”

Jaime had the courtesy to blush as he clamped his arms down to his side.

“I spoke with those who were there. Renly, Margaery, Loras, Addam, Elia… did you know your sister tried to recast the Imperius curse on you?”

Jaime blinked slowly.

Selwyn chuckled, “I suspected as much. They were all terrified when she did, but apparently the spell just bounced right off. Once you knew she loved you—“ Jaime opened his mouth but Selwyn waved his hand to hush him, “My daughter tells me most things. I had been made very aware of the colour of your eyes long before I met you,” Selwyn chuckled as Jaime gaped, “Once you knew she loved you, your sister couldn’t touch you anymore. Part of me wants to say it’s egregious that you value her love for you more than you value your love for her, but as her father that makes me happy that her feelings will be treasured. You do love her don’t you?”

“I love her more than anything sir.”

“Then in the future, let that be enough from now on.”

“The Tarth’s are such optimistic people,” Jaime huffed, not being able to help the pull at the corner of his lips, “You seem so certain there will be a future.”

“She will wake and she will be still be Brienne, son. The smell of you will surely rouse her soon.”

“I-is that what that is?”

Jaime and Selwyn’s heads snapped in the direction of the bed as Brienne’s hand lightly closed over Jaime’s palm. She gazed at them sleepily with half open eyes. “You look half a god and half a corpse Jaime.”

Selwyn chuckled loudly, “Like father like daughter. I will go get a healer.” With that Selwyn made himself scarce as Jaime stared wide-eyed at the groggy woman.

“You really do smell awful Jaime.”

“I… I need to shower.”

Brienne hummed in her dazed state, “And then with some sleep you’ll go back to being simply god-like rather than corpse-like.” Jaime couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him as tears streaked down his face. Brienne reached to flick the salty droplets from his cheeks as she smiled endearingly at him. “You can sleep here if you’d like,” Brienne tried to pat her bedside with the hand that was in his, but then realized she could not before she used her other hand to tap the mattress slowly, “But only if you shower.”

Jaime gaped like a fish, but before he could reply no less than three healers rushed into the room, followed by a frankly jaunty Selwyn, and immediately began to fret over Brienne like a pack of hummingbirds. Jaime used his sleeve to wipe away the rest of his tears not wanting anyone else to see him cry. They only had one question after their assessment. “How?”

Brienne hummed as she buried herself into her pillows, tightening the grip she had refused to relinquish around Jaime’s hand. “Because he loves me.”

Jaime jolted in utter confusion as Selwyn laughed heartily and realization seemed to dawn on the healers. “What? Excuse me? Tell me what’s going on!” Jaime asked looking frantically around demanding answers.

One of the healers seemed to want to scold him, “You didn’t tell us the whole story!”

Another one took pity on him, “He didn’t know and we didn’t ask.”

The last one decided to actually explain it to him, “The Imperius curse can complicate a magical medical malady assessment. There are two intentions involved in every spell casted by those who are being controlled. We needed to understand the intentions of both the Imperius curse caster and the one being controlled in order to understand the affect of the spell. You told us the curse caster had a strong malicious intent, we assumed that your intent was fond at best—“

“Stupid, really, considering he hasn’t left her bedside in weeks,” Selwyn muttered under his breath.

“The caster always has a stronger influence,” the healer continued undaunted, while the first healer gave Selwyn a dirty look, “So even fond feelings won’t do much. But strong feelings… well strong feelings can somewhat negate the Imperius caster’s intent,” the healer looked at him with warm eyes, “You must love her very much.”

Brienne chirped loudly, “Jaime Lannister loves me very much.”

Selwyn patted Brienne on the shin lovingly, “My dear daughter has very little resistance to the more… surreal affects of pain suppression enchantments.”

Jaime gaped as he stared at Selwyn, “You knew this!”

Selwyn chuckled, “Indeed son.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, a father needs to establish his dominance somehow.”

“Da-ad!” Brienne whined as she wiggled the leg her father was patting, “Stop teasing Jaime.”

“Yes, yes my shooting star.”

Brienne eyes twinkled as she hid half her face under the covers, “But also make him shower.”

Selwyn raised his eyebrows at Jaime as the healers tittered, “You heard the lady. She’ll still be here when you return and I’m sure her friends have been wanting to see her as well.”

Jaime nodded as Brienne rubbed her cheek against the back of Jaime’s hand like a cat establishing its territory. Jaime leant down and flipped their hold so that he could kiss her knuckles. He murmured quietly into her ear, “We’ll figure us out when you’re not under pain suppression enchantments?”

Brienne’s blue eyes glowed as she nodded dreamily, “Okay.”

It took them more than a year to figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Man it's been a long time since I've written angst. Did I do okay?
> 
> If you wanna know how these dorks finally get together in one and a bit years from now, read [My Soul Calls to You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238788)!
> 
> I have at least one more instalment planned for this series and a couple more ideas cooking up. The one I have planned is significantly more light hearted in every way. I hope ya'll are still enjoying it.
> 
> I have several pages now dedicated to timelines for this world. It's hard keeping track of what happens when and if that makes sense! Is there free software for this? Maybe this is why you just don't write stuff out of order.


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